There's very little decent Mexican food in Australia. Now, you may think this is a strong statement, but consider this: only about 3,000 Mexicans even live here. In my opinion, this is nothing short of a tragedy. I never realized how much I love Mexican food until it was rudely snatched away from me over the course of one 14-hour plane ride from Los Angeles to Melbourne.
Well. After months of searching, lots of making-stuff-from-scratch-with-questionable-results, some fruitless searches for basic things like cornmeal and black beans, and throwing up my hands in disgust over sweet spaghetti sauce masquerading as salsa, I found THE PLACE. Mamacita, a tiny upstairs restaurant on Collins Street in the CBD. You walk in an unassuming doorway, up a narrow flight of stairs, and into pure sweet deliciousness. My friend Erin and I went there today for lunch. We were so excited to find amazing Mexican food that we promptly got wasted on micheladas and inhaled some amazing tacos. We also destroyed a huge basket of homemade chips and salsa (why do Australians and New Zealanders like sugar in their salsa? I will never understand this). They have soft tacos. They have quesadillas with "Mexican truffles." They have ceviche. They have tamales. They have Don Julio. Y.U.M. So giddy with delight were we that we bared our souls to the bartenders. Well, not really. But we had a really interesting conversation about state capitals and how lame they are. Seriously. It wasn't the booze.
I will now be eating there at least once a day. Possibly more, if we can keep entertaining the bartenders, thereby earning free food and/or tequila.